


Oh, go away, Ernesto!

by Ford_Ye_Fiji



Category: Coco (2017)
Genre: Ernesto is... Fishy, F/M, Finally I made it, Héctor is a dork, I don't know what I'm doing, I'm super nervous, Imelda thinks Héctor is cute, Romance, for paintbrush123, no sadness here, Óscar and Felipe are sort of there??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-20
Updated: 2018-04-20
Packaged: 2019-04-25 09:53:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14376297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ford_Ye_Fiji/pseuds/Ford_Ye_Fiji
Summary: Héctor Rivera and Ernesto De La Cruz sing in the plaza.Imelda likes what she sees.





	Oh, go away, Ernesto!

**Author's Note:**

> For paintbrush123!

Imelda hadn't meant to be caught staring.

She'd been preoccupied with the _tianguis_ , watching her brothers from a distance to make sure they didn't hurt themselves, and absentmindedly ticking off the chores she would have to complete that day. So, amid the hustle and bustle, Imelda had sat down, taking the heavy basket from her hip and placing it on the ground beside her.

Still thinking about the laundry and the dinner and watching Óscar and Felipe feed the street dog that she had explicitly told them _not_ to feed, her eyes began to wander. They settled on a comfortable middle distance as her brain ran in circles.

It was only when she made accidental eye contact with another that she realized where she had been looking.

By the fountain was usually where the _mariachi_ groups took up their post when crowds of people came to listen. There were two there now, a duo she'd seen around before.

The one in the front had a strong chin and a fancy white suit, wide overconfident grin dripping with charisma. Woman crowded around him giggling and clapping at his silky voice and tolerable guitar work. Ah, Ernesto De La Cruz. She remembered him.

His companion, in Imelda's opinion, was the more charming of the two. He definitely did not like the spotlight, shy smiles not quite used to the crowds yet, but blindingly joyful all the same. She could tell that he clearly loved to play, his nimble fingers flying skillfully across the guitar strings.

His wide grin was offset by sharp cheekbones and floppy hair with a neatly trimmed goatee. He was lanky and tall and clearly not used to his height, unlike Ernesto's stocky more muscular and smoothed build. He still leapt about the fountain like an enthusiastic rabbit, his clumsy graceful gait all the more endearing.

He had just reached the ending note of the song when their eyes met. It was just for a split second, but Imelda already felt her face heating up. She looked away quickly, trying to remember what she was thinking about.

She glared at a basket of papayas, but she couldn't concentrate for the life of her. Imelda abruptly stood, easily picking up the heavy basket and gestured at Óscar and Felipe loudly, "Let's go! _Mamá_ wants us home!"

Óscar and Felipe stumbled to their feet, trotting over quickly, " _Sí, hermana, Sí_."

"Say, are you-"

"-alright? You're looking-"

"- a little flushed."

Imelda glared icily at them and they gulped. She started walking, "It's hot out here."

They didn't argue.

* * *

 

Héctor Rivera strummed his guitar thoughtfully, staring off into the cool night air. Ernesto De La Cruz sat beside him, legs swinging off the wall, "Why so somber my friend? It was a good day today, we have money, good food, and good company!"

Ernesto winked at three passing women, hand going to the edge of his sombrero, " _Buenas Noches_ , ladies." The oldest one huffed and moved faster. The last two giggled behind their hands, but followed the other.

Héctor shrugged, and began turning the tuning pegs on his guitar, listening closely, "Eh, don't you think that there would be more to this, though?"

Ernesto nodded, "There will be. When we become famous, we will have finally achieved our dreams!"

Héctor shook his head, "No, not like that. I mean, what about marriage and a _familia?_ Being famous is nice and all, but what about a wife and children?"

Ernesto laughed, slapping his knee, "Oh _mi amigo!_ What brought this insanity on? Are you feeling alright?"

Héctor shrugged, fingers stilling on the strings, "I saw _una_   _ángel_ in the plaza, today. She just made me think that perhaps I'm missing out on something."

Ernesto shook his head, " _Aye yi yi,_ my friend... But it's not marriage you're missing out on." He wiggled his eyebrows.

Héctor rolled his eyes and shrugged, resuming his fiddling with his instrument, "Whatever you say, Ernesto."

Despite Ernesto's best efforts, Héctor started seeing the ' _ángel_ ' everywhere. She was picking through fruits in the plaza, she was shooing two young boys away from a street dog, and humming under her breath to the tune of their music. Ernesto agreed with his friend, she certainly was beautiful.

Ernesto liked her for her beauty and her grace and while those were admirable qualities, Héctor saw something else. Héctor liked the intelligence and kindness and fire he saw in those moments in between, when she thought no one was watching.

Neither of them, however, had heard her sing.

****

* * *

 

Imelda, herself, also couldn't help seeing the _músico_ everywhere she was. He was chatting up potential backers in the plaza, skipping down back alleys charming cooks out of their leftovers, and strumming his guitar from atop his perch on a cobblestone wall.

The more she saw of him, the more she found herself thinking about him. A merchant had answered her question about who he was (Héctor Rivera) and how often he played in _mariachi_ plaza (a lot).

He seemed to be kind and good natured with everyone, even the _señoritas_ who approached him to see if they could meet his handsome friend. Ernesto De La Cruz was a notorious womanizer, not that he had to do anything other than smile to have adoring fans fling themselves at his feet.

Héctor was exceptionally good with children, which Imelda found to be a far more appealing trait than just attractiveness. Héctor danced at the request of a little girl in the plaza, spinning her around carefully and shooing her off to her parents afterwards. He offered to teach a boy a couple chords on his guitar and held a wailing baby for a hapless mother trying to do several different things at once. (Not only did he put the baby to sleep, but he told a story to her other three children until the woman was done.)

The more Imelda saw, the more she fell in love. He seemed to act a bit foolish sometimes, but Imelda figured that could be taken care of.

But, all of this did not take into account his music. The man could _play_. The worn beaten guitar seemed to come to life underneath his long fingers, coaxing life and happiness and pure joy from its tired strings.

Imelda was not one to back down from a challenge, so late one night she snuck out of her house while her parents were asleep. Imelda had silently apologized to her _mamá_ and papa with a muttered, " _Lo siento, Papí,_ but how else are you going to get grandchildren?"

A concert was happening tonight and she knew that the _mariachi_ would not miss it for the world. People chattered excitedly and Imelda hurried through the crowd, looking for a good view of the stage.

Honestly, Imelda had not meant to dance. She hadn't been able to help it. Once Héctor had started to play, nothing else had seemed to matter. She danced along with the crowds of couples, feet flying, and shoes snapping sharply across the bricks as her skirt swirled around her legs. A few people knew the words of the song and sang along as well as they were able. Imelda joined in.

She did not notice that she was dancing and singing alone, until the wonderful music stopped. She paused, breathless, looking at the _músicos_ and the clapping whooping crowd.

Ernesto De La Cruz jumped down from the stage and took her hand, " _Señorita_ , you are most enchanting! And an excellent singer! Would you like to dance with me?"

She was not used to being the center of attention of such a large crowd. She bravely forged ahead, saying the first thing that came to mind, "But who would provide the music?"

Ernesto waved vaguely at the gangly man behind him, " _Mi amigo_ can provide the music to set the scene."

Imelda shook her head. Her father had always credited her for being bold, so, despite the flush rising in her neck, she spoke, "I do not want to dance with you, _Señor_." His face fell, not with disappointment but puzzlement.

She smiled and pointed at the other musician, "I want to dance with him."

Héctor pointed at himself with astonishment. She nodded. He paused for a moment too long. She raised an eyebrow, "Do you want to dance or not?"

The man fumbled tongue-tied before managing, " _Sí! Sí!_ I would desire nothing else!" He scrambled down the stage, carefully propping his guitar against the wood. Ernesto, still mystified at being rejected, stood out of the way.

Héctor swallowed nervously and took her hands carefully in his. She nodded to Ernesto, feeling triumphant at her success, "Play, _mariachi_." She added as an afterthought, "Please."

Ernesto seemed to come awake again, "Well!" He winked at the crowd, " _Mi amigo_ is finally getting some attention, eh?" The crowd laughed. Imelda's narrowed gaze was flinty.

Ernesto shouted, "Let's dance!"

* * *

 

Héctor was baffled, he'd assumed the stunningly talented _señorita_ would dance with Ernesto. Who wouldn't? But she'd singled him out with an assured victorious smile. Who was he to refuse? Of course, he hadn't had the good sense to reply to her, apparently. His foolish tongue had stopped working at the very moment he needed it most!

Thank God for her patience. As the music started up and the crowd began to dance again, the _ángel_ before him smiled, "We are required to move our feet to dance, _señor._ "

He started, turning scarlet, " _Sí,_ I know!" They began to move, slowly at first and then more confident as they found their rhythm.

He added suddenly, "My name is Héctor...?" She smiled brightly, and, deciding it was best not to say 'I know', replied smoothly, "I am Imelda, _mariachi._ "

* * *

 

They danced and sang most of the night, only leaving in the wee hours of the morning. Héctor walked her home, Imelda more relaxed than she'd ever been. They spent a few minutes drinking in the sight of the stars spread out across the dark sky, before she'd waved goodbye and clambered up the trellis outside her bedroom window. Héctor watched her go with wide eyes. When she'd pulled herself up safely into the room, he called quietly, half in awe, " _Dios..._ You snuck out like that?"

She threw back with a grin and a toss of her hair, "It's impolite to stare, Héctor!"

Imelda considered that night a success when the next day, Héctor approached her in the plaza and walked with her until her brothers called her away with some of their ridiculous antics. From then on, she could almost always count on Héctor following her around, serenading her with music and silly rhymes and shy grins.

Unfortunately, Ernesto was Héctor's best friend and he did not quite like her. She'd caught him trying to persuade Héctor to stop "mooning after her like a lovesick kid." Héctor had been less than impressed and brushed it off, but that Ernesto had gone on insisting that she was going to "get in the way of their dream."

So, no. Imelda did not appreciate Ernesto and she was not fooled by his charming smiles. He didn't understand why she scowled at him whenever he complimented her sweetly, words weaving honeyed lies.

Still, she had taken the first steps to initiate a relationship with Héctor, because he was unconventionally attractive and kind, which was more than what most girls got. Imelda hadn't expected, however, to completely fall head over heels.

Her brothers knew even before she did, carefully scoping out Héctor to see if he was good enough for their sister. Imelda appreciated it, she really did, but perhaps they came on a bit too strongly. (Héctor had recounted the whole ordeal with wild hand movements and strums of the guitar at moments where he felt tension needed to be added. Her brothers assured her when she came home fuming, that he had passed the test. She'd told them plainly that she didn't need their approval to see Héctor and that she'd court exactly who she wanted too thank you very much.)

Still, after ten months of cautious flirting and awkward family dinners, the whole of Santa Cecilia was beginning to get rather impatient. They wanted a wedding.

Ernesto De La Cruz however, seemed to still be harboring his doubts about her commitment somewhere in his head.

Imelda found that out the hard way.

Héctor stood between the two _huracán_ forces, hands out as he seemed to both shrink backwards and try to stand forward at the same time. Imelda was furious, her cheeks were flushed, long hair tumbling out and sticking to her face at times. Ernesto De La Cruz was irritatingly composed, but a muscle in his jaw ticked with suppressed anger.

Héctor looked between the two, gaze filled with earnest distress. Imelda felt guilty to be responsible for that expression, but the tension between her and De La Cruz had been building for a long time. She regretted that things had come to a public shouting match in the plaza, but she did not regret confronting him about him trying to get Héctor to walk away from her- behind her back!

Héctor, the smart man, had dismissed every one of Ernesto's accusations.

Ernesto De La Cruz, meanwhile, did not feel guilty about making his friend upset. Héctor was being stubborn, again, and was refusing to see that Imelda clearly did not care about him and was just using him as a fling! The whole charade had gone on long enough, he felt, and if this was what it took, than so be it.

Héctor spoke steadily, "Look, my friends, this quarrel had gone on long enough. Why do you hate each other so?"

Imelda sighed and straightened, arms folding protectively in front of her. Ernesto did not retreat. Imelda spoke, "He has been filling your mind with poison! Saying I am a harlot and that I do not care what happens to you! Well, it has gone on long enough! If you have lies to say, say them to my face coward!"

Ernesto's neck was an unbecoming shade of red, "Héctor is my friend and I do not want him to be played with by a _pinche_ _ramera!_ "

Héctor looked appalled, "Ernesto! There are _niños_ nearby. Lower your voice!"

Ernesto calmed slightly, teeth gritted, "I do not think that you truly care about _mi amigo._ I think that you came out of nowhere with your fancy dancing and lovely singing and took him so that you could say that unfriendly icy Imelda had finally got herself _un hombre!_ I don't think you're committed!"

"You don't think I'm committed enough? You're throwing a tantrum because you think I'm not committed enough!"

Héctor winced as Ernesto's volume raised, and Imelda's angry bafflement followed, "Please, _mi amor-_ "

Imelda turned to Héctor, "I love you very much. Do you love me?"

He blinked, " _Sí?_ "

She glared, "Well? Do you want to get married?"

Ernesto realized he should probably backtrack, considering he'd been mostly jealous that Imelda had been taking up so much of his best friends time- not the measure of her commitment.

Héctor couldn't seem to believe his ears, "I- I... I'd planned it to be far more romantic than this-"

Imelda smiled with delight, "Good!" She looked at Ernesto and said, "Here's commitment for you, you meddler."

She grabbed Héctor by the lapels of his vest and pulled him into a kiss.

Ernesto blanched, quickly slapping his hand over his eyes with alarm, "Ah! No! Héctor! Don't do that!"

He peeked between his fingers and recoiled, "Ugh! You two are disgusting!"

Imelda broke for air, pleasantly flushed, "Oh go away, Ernesto." Héctor grinned at Imelda, not even looking at his friend, "Thank you Ernesto! We should have done this ages ago!"

Ernesto frowned bitterly, as they kissed again.

* * *

 

A week later, Ernesto called a grudging surrender with Héctor looking on in pride, hands tightly clasped with the new Mrs Imelda Rivera.


End file.
